


Maybe I Won't (Die Alone)

by fictorium



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:19:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Missing Scene' from episode 2x01 'Broken' - Emma and Regina steal a moment together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

"Wait," Emma says once her parents have taken off in the opposite direction. "Are you..." she grabs Regina's arm. "Are you actually okay? That thing--the wraith--should we be getting you checked out?"

 

"Well, your concern is touching," Regina mocks, as she strides ahead to open her office doors. "But I assure you, I'm fine."

 

"No need to be a bitch about it," Emma grouses, following Regina inside and holding her breath until the lightswitches are flipped and the monochrome masterpiece of a room comes fully into view. Emma can fault Regina on a number of things, not least her suffocating approach to motherhood, but there's no denying the woman can decorate.

 

"My head hurts," Regina sighs. "I hate headaches. There, happy now?"

 

"Where does it hurt?" Emma asks, all business as she steps in close once more. Without thinking she grasps Regina's head, the soft strands of dark hair bunching around the grip of her fingers as she explores for any sign of injury. "Do you think you might be concussed?"

 

"I think," Regina grumbles, grabbing Emma's wrists and jerking her hands away. "That nobody invited you to manhandle me, Miss Swan."

 

"I saw you get your soul sucked earlier," Emma points out. "Could we maybe, finally, cram it on the formalities?"

 

"As you wish, Emma," Regina says, looking around the office thoughtfully, but neglecting to release her grip on Emma's arms.

 

"That was pretty scary," Emma hears herself admitting. "And you know, I thought I was stuck fighting with David and Mary Margaret, not..."

 

"Spare me the tales of the Charming family reunion," Regina snaps, but it's more pained than bitchy.

 

"Hey, you try finding out your parents are secret fairytale badasses after twenty-eight years, see if you want to talk about it," Emma counters.

 

"I don't want to talk about parents," Regina says quietly, and Emma takes the hint. If Henry's been telling the truth this whole time, that means Regina really did kill her own father, and Emma has no idea what to do with that information.

 

"Do you have a plan B?" Emma asks, because she's finally (after a year of so many missteps) learning not to impulsively bet everything on the first idea that comes to mind. "I mean, if this doesn't work?"

 

"No," Regina admits, finally relinquishing her grip. "If this doesn't work, then..."

 

"You die?" Emma demands. "That is not okay. I don't accept that."

 

"I won't be dead, exactly," Regina says, her voice trembling just a little. "My body will live on, but without a soul."

 

"Kind of like a sleeping curse," Emma accuses.

 

"Yes," Regina admits, closing her eyes for just a moment. "A lot like a sleeping curse."

 

"You'd be gone," Emma says, reaching for Regina before she realizes what her hand is doing. "This could be the last conversation we have..."

 

"What are you--" Regina starts to ask, but she's silenced by Emma's kiss. Emma can't breathe, has no idea where this impulse came from but she knows she's been lying to herself for hours now (and who knows how much longer before that). She isn't keeping Regina alive for Henry; at least, that's not the only reason, and right now it isn't even the most pressing.

 

"Don't die," Emma mutters when they break for air. "Make your damn plan work, and stay alive, okay?"

 

"I'm trying," Regina grumbles, but this time she's pulling on long, blonde hair, drawing Emma into a kiss that feels a lot like one or both of them is going off to war at any moment; Emma wishes that were a hell of a lot further from the truth.

 

There are surfaces everywhere in this ridiculous room, with a sofa that probably cost more than Emma's apartment back in Boston. She can't decide where to steer them, content instead to let her hands roam beneath Regina's blazer, feeling Regina's cool touch beneath Emma's own leather jacket. 

 

"This is ridiculous," Regina gasps as Emma backs her against the conference table that dominates the room. "They'll be back at any--"

 

"So we'll be quick," Emma promises, already slipping a hand inside Regina's blouse, which has been straining at the buttons since they locked Regina up in the first place, and Emma’s been trying really hard not to stare in front of her parents.

 

“I don’t want to be quick,” Regina admits, her hand grasping now under Emma’s black top, squeezing through the flimsy cotton of her bra. “I want--”

 

“So get through this,” Emma says, breathing heavily now. “Get through this and we’ll do it again, take our time.”

 

“I thought you only ever did one night,” Regina says, impatient fingers now moving to unbutton Emma’s jeans. 

 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?” Emma asks, before dipping her head to kiss the skin she’s exposed by yanking Regina’s shirt and bra aside. Seconds later she’s teasing an already hard nipple with deft flicks of her tongue and Regina can’t bite back the shuddering little moans.

 

“God,” Regina gasps as Emma’s mouth closes around the tight bud and sucks. It’s nothing compared to the keening noise that falls from Regina’s mouth when Emma bites down. “Is this the most ridiculous time you’ve done this?” Regina asks, seemingly without meaning to.”

 

“Nope,” Emma confirms, cupping Regina between her legs, pressing down with the heel of her hand.

 

“Really?” Regina asks. “There was a situation more ridiculous than this?” She pinches Emma’s nipple to make the point, smirking at the hitch in Emma’s breathing.

 

“Oh yeah,” Emma says, nodding. “Not least the one that gave us a son.”

 

“Oh,” Regina says, but then Emma’s undoing the button and zipper on Regina’s pants, and slipping determined fingers beneath Regina’s underwear, and suddenly it doesn’t matter how long Regina’s been stuck in these clothes, or how they’re both hungry and badly need to sleep, because the adrenalin of doing this, of being together like this at last, is lighting them both up like goddamn fireworks.

 

“I’m sorry we have to hurry,” Emma says, moving her fingers back and forth at a pace that makes Regina tremble along the entire length of her legs. “I just need...”

 

“I need it too,” Regina confesses, clutching Emma closer to her, kissing in slightly frantic, erratic lines along her jaw, pushing aside that blonde hair to nuzzle Emma’s neck while rocking harder and harder against Emma’s hand.

 

When Regina comes, it’s with a short, sharp cry. Emma feels the tension ebb out of the woman in her arms, withdrawing her fingers reluctantly but pausing to lick them experimentally.

 

“Very nice,” Emma breathes. “I’m definitely going to want a round two sometime soon.”

 

“But what about you?” Regina asks, not releasing the grip she has on Emma.

 

“Consider yourself on a promise,” Emma says. “Now you really have to get rid of the cloak thing.”

 

Regina laughs, still a little breathless. They freeze at the sounds of doors opening and closing somewhere in the hallway. Regina starts to fix her clothes, and Emma pulls away reluctantly, fumbling as she tries to button her jeans again. It’s taken almost superhuman strength to resist letting Regina do the same to her, but time is already ticking away and Emma can’t face Henry if she has to admit that some spooky flying curtain got his Mom because Emma was too busy getting it on with said Mom.

 

Regina struts over to one of the corners, retrieving a weird-shaped leather box and carrying it back to the table. She sets it down with care, lost in thought. Emma leans forward, disguising the slight tremble in her hands by laying them flat on the table. She notices the slight sheen of sweat at Regina’s hairline, at the base of her neck, and smiles quickly to herself at the sight.

 

“Did Henry really ask you to protect me?” Regina asks, and Emma sees the doubt in her eyes now. If Regina assumes Emma had designs, had plans for a moment like that, it could well mean that Henry doesn’t still care for the mother who raised him, and Emma understands now how thinking that could break a person’s heart.

 

“Yes,” she says simply, because the truth needs no embellishment. The smile--the genuine, radiant smile--Regina gives in return makes it all worth it. This moment, this day, this year of lies and insanity and dangers Emma can’t even begin to name; it all feels worth it, if they can make it through this next part.

 

Regina pulls the hat from the box, and suddenly Emma understands the plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, you know how I was totally done and this was just a missing scene? Huh. Funny story: then someone prompted me about Emma's return, and now this story has grown into a whole other thing.

“It might not work,” Regina warns one last time, flexing her fingers and listening to the joints crack. Hours upon hours of practice have left her exhausted, but quietly confident. She doesn’t relish the thought of Charming threatening her life again, though, and so she doesn’t betray anything other than vague hope.

 

“Do it, Mom!” Henry calls out, from where he’s lingering in the doorway with Ruby. 

 

She smiles at him, thrilled again beyond measure when he returns it with a lopsided smile of his own. Regina remembers when those were just baby teeth, and they’ve been discussing those lost years for weeks as Regina has plotted and researched and experimented with magic. It’s the first time she’s truly believed they’re a family, or at least been able to feel that as a fact and not some desperate, clinging hope; she has no intention of jeopardizing that now.

 

“Here goes,” she says, as much for her own benefit as anyone’s. Charming stands _en garde_ , sword glinting in the dull light and other weapons strapped to his body in strategic places. 

 

The words are complex and still not entirely familiar, but the newly-repaired hat begins to twitch almost instantly. Henry lets out a childish ‘whoop!’ of glee from the door, but Regina squeezes her eyes shut and forces herself to concentrate. Opening the portal is one thing--she can do that simply by spinning the hat--but pulling Emma and Snow back through it is another challenge altogether. Clearly, they’ve found no way to transport themselves home, and Regina isn’t sure whatever remains of the Enchanted Forest would have the magic to support any such thing.

 

“Where are they?” Charming bellows, and Regina directs a sneer in his direction. If she ruins this now because of his impatience...

 

But then there’s a shout from somewhere in the swirling purple vortex, and Regina watches the familiar form of Snow White tumble through, scooped up in an instant by her devoted husband. Regina would be nauseated, if she could spare the concentration. She flicks a glance over Snow’s changed clothes--the flowing white dress is what she always preferred, and there’s something bizarrely comforting about the sight.

 

Regina feels the energy draining from her body at an alarming rate, but there’s a shift in gravity that suggests she’s succeeding. Sure enough, Emma tumbles through a moment later, cursing like a sailor as she hits the cold, tile floor. 

 

Despite the changed clothing, Emma looks much the same as she ever did, only now her long hair is tied up in a practical bun, and her leathers belong to hunters of the old world rather than the bikers of this one. Henry is straining in Red’s arms, and Regina exhales heavily, letting the portal fall closed as she drops her arms, crumpling to the floor in a way that feels like a relief.

 

“Emma!” Henry cries out as he runs, and as her eyes slip closed, Regina takes perverse glee in the fact that he didn’t call her ‘mom’. “Are you okay?” Regina hears, and she presses her cheek against the cool floor, trying to recover some strength.

 

Someone touches her face, and she opens her eyes to see Emma staring at her, a healing cut on her jaw and a fading bruise around one eye. Regina can’t recall the last time she saw anything quite so beautiful, and she hates herself for thinking it.

 

“Hey,” Emma says, brushing her thumb over Regina’s cheekbone as they lie there on the floor--Regina on her side, Emma on her stomach. “Regina, did you just save us?”

 

“Maybe,” Regina whispers. “You came back.”

 

“Well, you did promise me round two,” Emma says, smiling through a sudden wince of pain. “Although you could maybe work on a softer landing, for next time.”

 

“You’re complaining about _how_ I saved your life?” Regina sputters, pulling herself up into a sitting position, before helping Emma do the same. Regina is painfully aware of the other eyes on them, of how curious they must appear to everyone else, not least of all Henry.

 

“I seem to remember accusing you of the same thing,” Emma says, still smiling, still improbably solid and real. 

 

“Emma?” Snow says cautiously, still wrapped up in Charming’s arms. “Are you coming home with us?”

 

“Am I?” Emma whispers, not quite looking at Regina.

 

“Henry hasn’t been staying with me,” Regina says, feeling her strength finally creep back through limp muscles. “But perhaps Emma should come and spend some time with him, now she’s back.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Charming says, letting go of Snow so he can step forward and challenge Regina. It would seem their fragile peace has officially come to an end. “Emma and Henry are coming with us.”

 

“I want to go with my moms!” Henry protests, running and then sliding across the floor on his knees to place himself between Emma and Regina. “Sorry, grandpa.”

 

“It’s okay,” Emma says, holding up a hand to placate her father. Regina looks between them, quietly marvelling at the physical resemblance. “I’ve missed Henry like hell, but Regina is his mom. So I’ll go there.”

 

“You should get checked out first,” Regina interjects. “You’re obviously injured.”

 

“Nothing I can’t walk off,” Emma dismisses the concern, setting Regina’s teeth on edge. It seems that a quick fumble followed by a seemingly endless separation has changed nothing, at least not when it comes to Emma’s stubbornness.

 

“Henry,” Regina says, patting him on the shoulder. “You go with your grandparents for now. Once I take Emma to the doctor, we’ll come and get you.”

 

“Why are you talking like this?” Snow says, pouncing on the pronouns. “And Emma, why are you letting her? Is this what you’ve been refusing to talk about the whole time we were away?”

 

“Mom, leave it,” Emma sighs, and there’s a ripple of energy in the room at her use of the word. 

 

“Regina,” Snow shifts focus. “Thank you. For bringing us back.”

 

“I suppose we’ll have to talk about where you were,” Regina says, not willing to acknowledge the grudging thanks.

 

“Oh, we will,” Snow confirms, that steely resolve setting her jaw once more. Regina has almost missed it, except for the part where it’s exhausting to have all that determination aimed at her own head. “But right now, I want to spend some time with my husband. Emma, are you sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says. “Take Henry to get some of his things, and I’ll come get him in a while.”

 

“Wait, are you two--” James begins.

 

“Charming!” Snow snaps, the old nickname resurfacing in her haste. “Let’s finish that thought another time, hmm?”

 

Emma stands then, helped by Henry before they both offer a hand to Regina. She picks herself off the floor with that help, dusting off her dark green dress and trying desperately not to smirk.

 

“I missed you,” Henry says to Emma, hugging her hard around the waist. “Don’t wait too long to come get me.”

 

“I won’t, kid. But your mom isn’t going to gimme a break until I convince her I’m not about to drop dead on the floor.”

 

“Like she cares,” Ruby mutters from the doorway, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’ll be off,” she says, much louder. “Unless anyone else wants me to babysit.” Regina can’t help but smile at the bitterness. Perhaps in this land people are a little less reluctant to follow every whim of their Royal Family. Twenty-eight years of even token democracy has been persuasive.

 

Charming reaches for Henry’s hand, leading him towards the door, a strong arm still draped around Snow’s waist. Regina wonders, fleetingly, what it would have been like to feel happy for Snow, to be able to cheer her finding that one true love. Even if that love is the son of a shepherd with the manners of one, to boot.

 

“Come on,” Emma says. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t trust that hat not to suck me back in.”

 

“Fine,” Regina agrees. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Emma says, marching towards the hallway. 

 

“Then why let me take you to a doctor?” Regina demands, following Emma in spite of her best instincts.

 

“That’s not where you’re taking me,” Emma says, turning so suddenly that Regina stumbles in fright. That moment of imbalance, that sudden shift in momentum, is all Emma needs to back Regina against the forest-patterned wallpaper in the hallway. “Round two, remember?”

 

“Emma!” Regina can’t help it, she’s faintly scandalized. “You lied to your parents, turned down time with Henry--”

 

“I’ve got the rest of the day for Henry,” Emma interrupts. “But the one thing keeping me going all those weirdass, crazy days back where I supposedly come from? Was your promise, Regina. You gonna break your word?”

 

Emma tilts her chin in that defiant way she has (that unfortunate trait is apparently genetic) and stares Regina down. Regina almost wants to deny her, that familiar spite flexing inside her like a well-used muscle, but she chokes down the impulse and for once chooses the thing that might just make her happy.

 

“Not here,” Regina says, as Emma presses a thigh between Regina’s own. “The Town Hall isn’t exactly safe these days.”

 

“So take me home,” Emma breathes, her lips grazing Regina’s ear, making her shiver. They’re so close right now that Regina can’t remember what it’s like to breathe her own air, to feel air touch her skin where Emma is pressed instead. Regina’s senses are overwhelmed by the sheer force of Emma, the choking, dazzling reality of her being real and back in the same room. 

 

“Maybe I’m not that kind of girl,” Regina teases, because even when she doesn’t intend it a note of self-sabotage creeps into these things. She pushes and tests and dares the other person to run from her, to give up before things even get all that hard. But Emma Swan, judging by the possessive way her hand squeezes Regina’s ass, is in no mood to be pushed anywhere.

 

“I know exactly what kind of ‘girl’ you are, Regina,” Emma murmurs, her mouth now grazing the sensitive skin beneath Regina’s ear. “And despite pirates and you don’t even want to know who else hitting on me for weeks, I decided to wait for you.”

 

“Pirates?” Regina gasps, as Emma kisses tenderly where her lips have just grazed. 

 

“Tell you later,” Emma whispers, as Regina clutches at the back of her neck, pulling her up into a real kiss, a kiss that says both ‘welcome home’ and maybe just a little bit of ‘what the hell are we doing?’.

 

Emma tastes sweet, like a fruit Regina vaguely remembers but can’t quite identify. But Emma’s tongue is deft and insistent, pressing against Regina’s own as they both moan softly into the contact, the crumbling Town Hall around them all but forgotten.

 

Regina wants to retain a little distance, to seem at least a little unmoved, but her body is betraying her. She lifts one foot clear off the ground, using her leg to wrap around Emma and keep her close, and Emma responds by grabbing Regina’s thigh to hold her in place. It feels safe, after too many weeks of feeling dangerously adrift, waking ten times a night at every strange noise or unexpected thump. Charming has almost kept the town in check, but Regina knows that human nature is too unpredictable for her to relax, or ever feel truly safe; in Emma’s arms, that fear seems far less potent, a concern for someone else altogether.

 

Until Regina hears the footsteps coming from the room they just left. The empty room.

 

She hears Jefferson’s voice in her head, that bored, disaffected drawl of his telling her that _the same amount of people that go through have to come back_. No, Regina tries to shake away the dread. _No more_ the memory echoes in her head, as the footsteps draw closer. The clicking of heels on the hard floor. _No less_ the memory finishes, and Regina turns towards the open doorway with a sick feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

 

She stares, not wanting to believe. She stares, not daring to look away.

 

“Regina?” Emma asks, shattering the silence that’s fallen over them. “What the hell is your mother doing here?”

 

Regina could have denied it, until she hears those words. The sick feeling that washes over her prevents her from asking how Emma could even recognize Cora, every possibility more unthinkable than the last. 

 

“Mother,” she chokes out eventually, as Cora watches her from the doorway.

 

“Hello, dear,” Cora replies, a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You should really be more careful when using magic on a Hatter’s hat.”

 

“Of course,” Regina says, releasing her grip on Emma and pushing her aside. “What brings you here?”

 

“Well,” Cora says, stepping forward with a contemptuous glare at Emma. “I heard from Snow White that you’d finally found your happy ending.”

 

“And naturally,” Regina finishes the thought. “You just had to do something about that.”

 

“Regina?” Emma asks, but Regina is too busy watching the flick of her mother’s wrist. Just in time, Regina mumbles a counter enchantment, leaving the sudden pink glare to freeze in mid-air between them.

 

“I’m warning you,” Regina says, sounding far more confident than her trembling hands and wobbling legs would suggest. “There’s no place for you here.”

 

Cora laughs, and it’s the hollow sound of Regina’s nightmares.

 

“Well, my darling daughter. We shall see.”

 

Regina grabs hold of Emma, weighs the risk for just a second or two, before dissolving them both into wisps of deep blue smoke. Wherever they end up, it has to be safer than here.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a strange, strange day when being magically teleported is not the weirdest thing happening to Emma.

 

But after the past few weeks? She has definitely started to reevaluate her definition of ‘strange’, making it the latest term on a long, long list.

 

The landing isn’t one that would thrill a gymnastics judge, and Emma isn’t quite sure of what state they’re in when they hit carpeted floor, other than her already bruised body is pretty unhappy about it, and Regina is clinging on to her like a life preserver. 

 

“Ow?” She ventures, with her eyes still squeezed shut. “Do I still have everything... you know, attached?”

 

Regina mutters something about ‘ungrateful’ but briskly pats Emma’s arms and legs to check for damage. “You’re intact,” she says a moment later, and even without looking Emma can sense the relief in those words.

 

“Why are we in your bedroom?” Emma asks on opening her eyes, taking in the muted gray silks and soft white cotton. 

 

“How do you know this is my bedroom?” Regina snaps, and she pulls away from Emma in an instant, defenses raised.

 

“Because I’m the Sheriff?” Emma tries. Regina’s stony expression suggests she is unmoved. “Or maybe because a couple of times when you were out, Henry made me help him search the house. You know, for clues.”

 

“To prove that I was the Evil Queen?” Regina says, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“I don’t think you can get all sniffy about that when it turns out that you, you know, _are_ ,” Emma points out, trying not to think too hard about all the stories she’s heard from the terrified subjects left in the Enchanted Forest. 

 

“I suppose all your mother-daughter bonding time has finished the job of turning you against me?” Regina asks, apparently forgetting they were just making out against a wall.

 

“Speaking of mothers...” Emma has no idea how to approach this particular clusterfuck of a topic.

 

“Henry is safe as long as she doesn’t know about him,” Regina says, crossing to her closet and flicking through some clothes with a bored expression. “You should shower. And change.”

 

“About that. And Henry,” Emma presses, feeling like she’s eight and just got caught breaking the kitchen window again. “It’s uh, it’s possible that Cora knows about him.”

 

“What?” Regina snaps, and she crosses the space between them so quickly that magic has to be involved. The air is practically crackling with it, like late at night on the Fourth of July when the last of the fireworks is about to be lit.

 

“Before I knew who she was,” Emma explains, raising her hands in something like self-defense. “I may have let slip that we share a son. And that his name is Henry. And, uh, that I left him here with you.” The last part trails off into a shamefaced whisper. Snow has forgiven the slip, although Emma’s made plenty more to distract her. Regina looks so angry that it’s a real possibility her head might actually explode.

 

Until, that is, the anger gives way to something much, much worse.

 

Emma’s seen Regina face down a dying son, a braying mob and a swoopy thing in a cape that wanted to suck her soul. But Emma has never seen Regina look this terrified.

 

“Wait here,” Regina says after a moment. Her voice sounds like a little girl trying to be bossy, and her hand trembles as she pushes her hair out of her eyes. “Shower, change; eat, if you’re hungry.”

 

“Where are you going?” Emma asks, although it’s obvious. It’s a habit she can’t seem to kick around these strange people.

 

“To bring Henry here, where I can keep him safe. There are protections on the house,” Regina explains, raising both hands to perform the necessary magic. Shit, it has to be bad if she can’t risk the five-minute drive.

 

“Wait!” Emma cries out. “You have to bring them, too. My parents.”

 

“Why?” Regina demands. 

 

“Because one, they won’t let you just take Henry without me. And two, if your mom is as bad as everyone says... I don’t want her torturing them to get to you. She already threw Mary Margaret around with her magic. And me.”

 

“Fine,” Regina sighs, but she doesn’t look happy about the compromise. Maybe evil tyrants don’t have to compromise, but mothers and... well, Emma doesn’t know that Regina’s anything in relation to her, but that seems like a thing where compromise might potentially happen, too.

 

She doesn’t get a chance to argue any further, though, because Regina’s gone in another dramatic puff of smoke.

 

Trying to shove the panic to the back of her mind, Emma trudges towards the bathroom. The prospect of finally feeling clean again is too tempting to resist.

 

***

 

The shower feels so good she actually cries for a few minutes. When she reluctantly steps out and dries herself briskly on fluffy towels, Emma can hear sounds of commotion downstairs. She pauses, listens, and determines that it’s simply the noise of expected people returning, not an invasion.

 

Regina mentioned clean clothes, but nothing in the ordered rows of the closets look particularly comfortable. Wrapped in a towel, Emma rummages in the ordered drawers until she finds a pair of black yoga pants that are just about long enough, and she layers up a sports bra that gives at least some support, a plain gray tee and the least expected item ever from the end of the rails: a black hoody.

 

It probably shouldn’t be surprising that Regina has stacks of underwear--no, lingerie--still in bags with tags overflowing in the drawers, but Emma clutches at the plainest panties she can find, hoping this won’t be an argument she has to have later in front of her parents. Despite their slight physical differences, Regina’s clothes feel comfortable enough, and in a last-minute moment of madness, Emma swipes the perfume bottle from the dressing table to spritz and remind her exactly who all these things belong to.

 

Having finished her bathroom routine, Emma rubs some moisturizer into her face as she takes a final look in the bathroom mirror. She smells like Regina, but even in her clothes doesn’t quite look like her, and that will have to be enough for now. Hopefully Mary Margaret will have insisted on bringing some things, anyway.

 

Emma bounces downstairs with surprising energy; she really is looking forward to seeing Henry. When she strolls into the sitting room that raised voices spill out of, she’s stunned to see Regina slumped in an armchair, eyes barely open.

 

“What the hell?” Emma demands, rushing to Regina’s side. Even Henry hangs back, still clutching his damn book. Emma’s going to have to sit him down sometime soon and tell him at least some of the heinous crap his pictures and pretty words left out. 

 

“She just... slumped,” Henry says, his expression concerned, at least.

 

“You should have called me!” Emma snaps at him, ignoring the way it makes his lower lip tremble. She’s promised herself every hour in the Enchanted Forest that she would give him a perfect life, if only she could get back to him. Now, in the harsh light of day, Emma considers her spoiled little prince might need something of a reality check. “Go get a cloth from the bathroom. Soak it, then wring it out, okay?”

 

“I don’t have a fever,” Regina murmurs. “‘sausted,” she finishes weakly.

 

“Too much magic?” Emma queries. Regina nods, but it’s little more than a dip of her chin by an inch. “What should I do?”

 

“Blanket,” Regina says, opening one eye to look towards the sofa. Emma decides to go one better, bodily lifting Regina and laying her out on that more comfortable space. Emma props a pillow under Regina’s head and wraps her snugly in the throw pulled from the back of the sofa; it’s some strange parody of tucking someone in for the night.

 

“Kitchen,” Emma says sternly to the other three when Regina’s eyes close fully. “Now.”

 

***

 

“She was fine when we got here,” David protests. “It’s only when she started throwing spells all over the house that she started to get like this.”

 

“It’s true, Mom,” Henry chimes in. That’s more than Emma can take.

 

“My name is Emma, kid. Your mom is next door, half-dead from trying to protect us all,” Emma says, and this time the tears actually spill from Henry’s eyes. She feels like a monster, but at the same time doesn’t know how to help it.

 

“Regina said we should be safe,” Mary Margaret says, moving towards the fridge like she’s been visiting the Mayoral mansion every day of her life. “Before she started to feel ill. So we wait, I guess.”

 

“We’re going to fight, as soon as we can,” David says, lifting his chin like he’s actually a King or something. Emma’s stomach turns over again at the thought that, technically, he kind of is. She’s consumed by another wave of trying to fold a bunch of Disney crap into her actual life when she sees the badge glinting at his hip.

 

“Hey!” Emma snaps, tired beyond belief now. “That’s my badge.”

 

“Just keeping it warm for you,” David says, with a warm smile that Emma can’t help but like. He unclips the badge and hands it over, patting her on the shoulder with his other hand. “The town missed you, though. I’m not sure I’m quite as practiced at keeping this kind of peace.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Emma says awkwardly, grateful for Mary Margaret’s interruption from where she’s now set up shop by the stove.

 

“We need to eat,” Emma’s mother says, in that stern and loving tone she’s become so used to. “I brought some things, and I’m going to have a long bath. If we must be stuck here, we may as well enjoy the facilities.”

 

“What do you need, my love?” David asks, and Emma feels kind of nauseated. 

 

“The soup is warming,” Snow says with a nod to a large pot. “If you and Emma can handle sandwiches without losing any fingers...”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says, shrugging as she moves towards the fresh loaf of bread and packets of ham and cheese. “Henry will show you where everything is, I guess.”

 

“Come on, grandma!” Henry says excitedly, pulling Snow back out into the hallway. “You can see my room, too.”

 

“You’re on soup duty,” Emma says to her father, because letting an oppressive silence take hold is more than she can handle right now. She unwraps a packet of ham, and gets to work.

 

***

 

Regina comes stumbling into the dining room an hour later, smiling softly at Henry for a moment before glaring at the mess they’ve made of her once spotless table.

 

“Sit,” Snow says firmly, every bit the mother in the room. “Henry, come help me make up a plate for... for your Mom.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” Regina says, sitting heavily in the chair at the head of the table. Her fingers are flexing seemingly without her notice, and she’s watching David warily as he polishes off another little triangle sandwich, his chair turned around for him to straddle like they’re in a bar and not a dining room that looks like something out of the White House.

 

“How are you?” Emma asks, and it might be the kindest she’s ever felt towards Regina.

 

“Tired,” Regina snaps, because what’s the point in goodwill if she can’t burn right through it. “Has there been any sign of--”

 

“Nope,” David answers, nodding towards the pile of swords in the corner, joined by a crossbow and a couple of other basic weapons. “And we’ll be ready when she does.”

 

“Charming,” Regina sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That bravado might have impressed the simple folk, and perhaps the occasional sheep, but my mother is a sorceress the likes of which you have never seen.”

 

“What’s the worst she can do?” Charming asks, determined to underestimate another Mills woman. “Curse us all to Maine for the best part of three decades and rob us of a relationship with our daughter?”

 

Emma drops her spoon at that, her second helping of soup almost done with anyway.

 

“Uh, guys, could we maybe not--”

 

“Charming, listen to Regina,” Snow interrupts from the doorway, marching briskly across the room to lay a tray in front of Regina. The bowl of soup is steaming and the sandwiches are stacked haphazardly, but Emma catches the gleam in Regina’s eye at the prospect of some food. It seems she’s still willing to lie just to spite them all, and Emma sighs inwardly at the thought. Not for the first time, she realizes how big a mess all of this is.

 

“Yeah,” Emma joins in as a voice of support. “Like Snow told me, Cora is ten times worse than Regina. No offense,” she tacks on as an afterthought.

 

“Oh, none taken,” Regina replies, rolling her eyes before grabbing a sandwich from the pile. “You have the benefit of being right, for once,” she adds, taking a dainty bite.

 

“She killed Lancelot,” Mary Margaret says sadly, and there’s that haunted shadow flitting across her face again, causing David to reach for her hand.

 

“Really? He was a brave knight,” David says, sounding every bit as sad. “He married us, you know,” he says for Emma’s benefit.

 

“I know,” Emma says, because during the long nights of the Enchanted Forest, sometimes storytelling was the only way left to pass the time. 

 

“I didn’t know that,” Regina says softly, and Henry is the one who squeaks in surprise at that. “So you mean to say, my big entrance, my disruption of your wedding feast... it was already done?”

 

“Yup,” Mary Margaret says, taking her seat next to Charming, opposite Emma. “You didn’t ruin our wedding day, sorry.”

 

“Only you would apologize for that,” Regina mutters, attacking her soup with real enthusiasm now. “But we must make a plan. My mother won’t be deterred for long.”

 

“Not just yet,” Emma says, looking to Henry for support. “You need to rest more. We want your batteries fully charged before you take her on.”

 

“Why are you so sure that’s my plan?” Regina asks, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her spoon is stilled as she awaits an answer. “I notice you didn’t say ‘we’.”

 

“Oh, we’re going to help. But I know this much about you, Regina: you might be a bitch? But you’re a surprisingly noble one. You’ll take her on by yourself to stop anyone else getting hurt by her.”

 

“Why would I mind other people getting hurt?” Regina asks, voice lilting just a little in mockery.

 

“Oh, by Rumple or an ogre, maybe you wouldn’t lift a finger,” Emma continues, feeling quite sure of herself. “But this is too personal.”

 

“You have to stay safe,” Regina says quietly. “Because when she defeats me, Henry will need a mother.”

 

“And we can work all of this out in the morning,” Snow says, nodding towards the fading light. “I know I, for one, would like to spend some fun time with Henry instead of talking about death and doom.”

 

“But my mother--” Regina starts to insist.

 

“Has made no move yet. She might be having, uh, trouble with her magic too,” David says and an unspoken argument plays out between him and Regina, one Emma can’t hope to follow. “And she’ll want at least one alliance here before coming after you, surely?”

 

“Possibly,” Regina admits through gritted teeth. She pushes the tray away, whether because her hunger is sated or out of spite, it’s impossible to tell. “I am tired.”

 

“Mom, is it okay...”

 

“Spend some time with your family, Henry,” Regina says, and there’s no mistaking the tightness of her voice and the glistening in those dark eyes. “Emma will want to hear all about your adventures.”

 

“Oh man, you gotta hear about the snakes,” Henry jumps in, full of childish glee.

 

“Vipers,” Regina and David correct in unison, before looking away, embarrassed.

 

“I’m going to rest some more, upstairs,” Regina says, delivering the news like a Royal command. “There are guest rooms, you can arrange yourselves. And food... well, whatever.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma says, and she’s completely sincere. That alone seems to catch Regina off-guard, but after a moment she stands and makes her way out of the room on stiff legs.

 

“Okay,” David says with too much enthusiasm to be plausible. “Henry, as the man of this house, you’re in charge. What shall we do for the rest of the evening?”

 

“Can we show M--Emma--and Grandma our swordfighting?” Henry says, practically bouncing in his chair.

 

“Wooden swords, I hope,” Mary Margaret reprimands, but her eyes are dancing in a way that makes Emma happy just to see it. There’s still a strange feeling to it all, like being a square peg in a round hole, but her edges are slowly wearing away.

 

“Then you can teach me,” Emma says, trying to sound like an encouraging mother. “Because it turns out? Guns really don’t work on fairytale monsters.”

 

Henry leads them out towards a comfortable den, and Emma tries not to think about the woman upstairs, alone.

 

***

 

“Hey,” Emma says, peering through the almost complete darkness of the room.

 

“Can I help you?” Regina says from somewhere in a pile of pillows, and it sounds so far beyond weary that Emma slumps just hearing it.

 

“Would it be okay if... I mean, I have a room and my parents think I’m sleeping in there, but...” Emma lets the sentence hang in the air, unfinished and unsure even of her own intentions.

 

“If you’re looking for that second round--” Regina begins, but Emma strides across the bedroom floor to interrupt.

 

“No!” Emma insists. “I mean, I still want to. That, for whatever reason, just hasn’t changed. But I kind of wanted to just be in the general area, you know?”

 

“Why, Miss Swan,” Regina says, sitting up suddenly to really drive the mockery home. “Anyone would think you missed me.”

 

“Might have,” Emma says, hands on her hips and scuffing a kick into the carpet like a teenager caught sneaking out. “But like I said, I found a perfectly good guest room.”

 

“Oh for Gods’ sakes,” Regina huffs, pulling the sheets back with a dramatic flourish. “Get in.”

 

“I knew you’d beg me eventually," Emma smirks, pausing only to kick off the borrowed slippers. She feels constricted already in these silk pajamas, but wandering around the house in her skivvies might have drawn a little too much attention.

 

“This might be the last night of peace for some time,” Regina says as they lay down, the gulf between them seemingly even bigger than when Emma stood clear across the room. “We may not even make it until morning without some interruption.”

 

“Then I guess that’s how it goes,” Emma says, enjoying the softness of cool cotton against her cheek. Despite her better judgment, she reaches a hand across to caress Regina’s cheek. Regina’s eyes slip closed and a quiet murmur of something between encouragement and maybe even happiness slips out into the stillness of the room. “I don’t want to be anywhere else tonight.”

 

“Not even back in the Enchanted Forest, dear?” Regina asks, eyes opening to reveal sudden, blazing curiosity. “After all, you’ve seen where you come from, now.”

 

“Don’t,” Emma insists. “Because if I think about that wrecked nursery and all those people, living like the world already ended...”

 

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Regina warns. “There are things I need to know, things we all need to discuss. No matter how painful that might be.”

 

“I know,” Emma sighs, feeling the familiar kick of rebellion course through her. “So let’s just have one last night before it all goes to hell again? Please.”

 

“Before you let yourself get back to hating me?” Regina asks, but this time she’s the one reaching for Emma.

 

“Maybe,” Emma admits, and when Regina kisses her, at least one of them is already crying.


End file.
